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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745004">leftovers (draw me like one of your dead girls)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonchalantenfant/pseuds/nonchalantenfant'>nonchalantenfant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TWICE (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, F/F, ITS ABOUT THE YEARNING, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magical Realism, Non-Graphic Smut, Somewhat, character death is mentioned but does not take place in the fic, spooky szn is upon us</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:22:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonchalantenfant/pseuds/nonchalantenfant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where should I start?” Chaeyoung’s voice is dull, but Sana surprises her, yet again. </p><p>“Wherever you want to kiss first.”</p><p>// Sana is a fleeting indulgence. Chaeyoung will take whatever she can get.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minatozaki Sana/Son Chaeyoung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>#GGFLASHFIC</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>leftovers (draw me like one of your dead girls)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>---</p><p> </p><p>Cape Breton is imposing cliffs, rolling hills, and more than one foreign language to Chaeyoung, and yet it immediately feels like home once she steps foot onto the tiny tarmac of the airport. Maybe it’s that kooky writer’s intuition that Tzuyu always teases her about, but she can almost feel the stories whispering to her. All that matters is that the air here is clean, fresh, salty, and here she can finally write<em>, </em> finally work, finally <em> think</em>. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>She develops a routine. Wake up, make herself a cup of warm water with lemon. Sit on an adirondack chair and watch the ripples dance over the water from her porch. Bring her laptop out and stare at the blank page until she goes cross-eyed. Take a nap. Maybe two. </p><p> </p><p>There aren’t any rules out here, it seems, in a land so remote and beautiful that Chaeyoung feels like maybe she could indulge. Maybe she deserves that. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, no one expects her to speak French, and her English is passable. She can order food, collect groceries while the cashiers look at her with pity, ask for directions if she’s lost. But even if it feels like home, hearing a line of Korean one day makes Chaeyoung’s eyes watery, and she immediately searches for the source in the park she’s in.</p><p> </p><p>Granted, Korean isn’t the only thing she hears. The same voice is calling out in broken English, and fluent Japanese as well, all the same phrase.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you see me?” </p><p> </p><p>A girl with startling orange hair is turning in circles in the middle of the park, trying to make eye contact with anyone. Strangely, Chaeyoung is convinced that the people around them <em> can’t </em> see her, as no one even bats an eye. Stranger still is the girl turns to Chaeyoung now, repeats the phrase, more desperately, and is shocked to discover that Chaeyoung looks back. At first, neither one of them moves, while children play and parents chat around them. </p><p> </p><p>Then, the girl <em> runs </em> towards Chaeyoung, so quickly that Chaeyoung starts to back away, apprehensive. She did not come here to get jumped, even if this person spoke Korean.</p><p> </p><p>The girl grabs both of Chaeyoung’s hands, and she barely notices the girl’s large, expressive eyes before her hands feel like they’re been plunged into ice water, biting cold making its way up her arms, feeling like she’s been shocked even.</p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung yanks her arms away with a yelp, and doesn’t even look at the girl’s face before turning and running as fast as she can in the opposite direction. She hears the girl try to follow, but Chaeyoung has always been fast, and she’s panting in front of her cabin before she knows it, trying to shake off the strange encounter as best she can.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The routine does its best, but it cannot hold Chaeyoung’s attention over the girl in the park. She tells herself it’s merely due to boredom that she’s back the very next day, just for a walk. Definitely not seeking the girl out deliberately. </p><p> </p><p>The shock of orange hair is easy to spot again, as is the way that no one seems to notice her, sitting forlornly underneath a tree. Even so, her presence must form an invisible barrier, as none of the rambunctious children playing tag even come close to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Why were you so cold?”</p><p> </p><p>The girl doesn’t look up at first, then snaps her head up so quickly that a few leaves shake off of the tree branches. “You came back.”</p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung thinks that’s a fair observation, especially given that she'd run away like a scared kitten yesterday. She’s still wary, but the girl looks so harmless it’s laughable. Her blueish dress hangs loose around her frame, and bears the marks of someone who slept outside. Still, the question stands, and Chaeyoung repeats it.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” comes the girl’s answer, accompanied by big brown eyes that are smashing Chaeyoung’s defenses. It’s one of many weaknesses that Chayoung had sought to escape. She should have known that there were pretty girls to distract everywhere.</p><p> </p><p>“How long have you been here?”</p><p>“I don’t know… maybe a day?”</p><p>“Are you lost?”</p><p>“I don’t know how I got here. I was in Korea, and now I’m here, in America…”</p><p>“Canada, actually.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>Sana looks up at her like she’s the world. It’s crazy. It’s batshit insane, but Chaeyoung feels like she can indulge her insanity right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to come home with me?”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Sana’s eyes had been sparkling in the park, as she was sitting in the filthiest thin blue dress Chaeyoung had ever seen, but here, but <em> now, </em> in Chaeyoung’s little cabin wearing Chaeyoung’s clothes, those eyes threaten to take over her entire life.</p><p> </p><p>Not an empty threat either. Chaeyoung offers to cook for her, and it ends with <em> Sana </em> clad in a flowery apron, dragged from under the cupboard, whipping up the most delicious take on instant ramen Chaeyoung has ever tasted. </p><p>Sana refuses to eat, and Chaeyoung almost protests before seeing the haunted look in her eyes. She stares at Sana’s lips throughout dinner anyway, and swallows harshly when Sana catches her, a thin smile on her delicate lips.</p><p> </p><p><em> Dangerous, </em> the poor, jaded voice of reason in Chaeyoung’s mind says. <em> More, </em> Chaeyoung replies. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Sana stays, sleeps on the floor, becomes the new routine. She has no idea how she got here, and Chaeyoung doesn’t even care. She wants more of Sana, filling up her dawns and evenings with rich food and richer tales of hiking through caves with strangers, of sneaking backstage into a concert just to see if she would get caught. </p><p> </p><p>Listening to Sana’s stories certainly feels like an indulgence, so far from Chaeyoung’s original purpose in coming here. She meant to clear her head, not fill it with someone else who was more infinitely fascinating than anything Chaeyoung could ever write. </p><p> </p><p>Sana keeps making dinner, and she never eats. Chaeyoung does what she thinks is a great job of pretending that this is normal, and it gets normal enough that Chaeyoung wants more, forgets to question things. </p><p> </p><p>She leans forward as Sana is mid-story about the time she dropped a key into a river, and she presses her lips to Sana’s. </p><p> </p><p>The shock is instant. The cold, choking feeling glues Chaeyoung’s lips shut, and she jerks back in revulsion, gasping for air. Sana almost follows, fingers reaching out to comfort before she remembers herself in time, freezing in mid-air, forced to just watch the heaving breaths clawing their way out of Chaeyoung’s lungs. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Chaeyoung knows that Sana only says it out of guilt. It is a thing they are ignoring together, the reason Sana never eats, her cold skin, why she is here in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to say anything.” The words come out of Chaeyoung’s mouth, but even she doesn’t believe them. “We can go on like this–”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m dead.”</p><p> </p><p>The thing is, Chaeyoung knew something was up. But it still brings that revulsion straight back up into her throat, with an accompanying laugh of panic. “Okay, now you have to say something.”</p><p> </p><p>“I'm… pretty sure I’m dead,” Sana starts after a pause. She looks at her foot the entire time. “I remember dying.” She is quiet for a long time, but Chaeyoung has time. </p><p> </p><p>“After… <em> it </em> happened, I woke up here. I thought it was the afterlife, or something but… no angels were greeting me. Well, just one.” </p><p>It says something about Chaeyoung that she still blushes. </p><p> </p><p>“This must be my in-between, or something. I have to find my way to the other side.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung nods, places her hand on the table. She can’t hold Sana’s hand, but she wishes she could as one thought runs through her head: <em> do you have to go? </em>Sana seems to sense it.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish, you know, we could… what you tried.” Sana stumbles over her words for the first time, and Chaeyoung wants to burst open right here at the table. “I want you to know. I wish too.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung watches Sana cook, cheerfully preparing food that she can’t eat for someone she can’t touch. The fondness in her chest does not lessen, and she impulsively reaches for a receipt lying on the table and puts pen to paper. She’s tempted to draw Sana’s eyes first, but her hands, stirring a pot, beg to be rendered. She’s just drawn the tip of her pinky finger when Sana gasps from the range, clutching her arm.</p><p> </p><p>The pen is tossed to the side immediately, and Chaeyoung is standing as close to Sana as she can without vomiting. </p><p> </p><p>“What were you doing, just now?” Sana asks, looking up from the hand she’s clutching. </p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung blinks. “I just… I wanted to draw you.” She reaches down to the receipt on the floor, showing just the beginnings of a finger. Sana gasps again, unfurls her closed fist. It looks the same to Chaeyoung, but Sana’s gaze spurs her on. Holding her breath, Chaeyoung reaches one tentative finger to tap against the very tip of Sana’s left pinky.</p><p> </p><p>Warmth and flesh greet her, and it shocks Chaeyoung so much that she jumps back. Sana’s face is alight in confusion and wonder, while Chaeyoung feels like it’s Christmas and Chuseok all rolled into one. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me draw all of you!” Chaeyoung dives for the pen, rolling around on the floor. She intends to start with her lips.</p><p> </p><p>“NO!” It stops Chaeyoung in her tracks, and even Sana looks surprised at her own scream. “No, it feels… like it won’t be a part of me soon. As soon as you drew it. Like it’s… returning me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Returning you?”</p><p>“To where I belong.”</p><p>“You belong here, with me.” </p><p>“You know I wish so.”</p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung cannot refute it. “Do you wish to be returned then?”</p><p>Sana is quiet. She looks at her pinky finger. It looks normal now, but something tells Chaeyoung that it’ll look less than corporeal tomorrow.</p><p>“What I wish doesn’t match what must happen. I can feel it. I’m on borrowed time, and I need to go back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow then,” Chaeyoung says in a rush of desperation. “But not tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Tomorrow comes quickly. Sana cooks dinner and packages the leftovers. Chaeyoung will sob if she thinks about eating them the next day, one last vestige of Sana’s handiwork, so she does not think of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Where should I start?” Chaeyoung’s voice is dull, but Sana surprises her, yet again. </p><p> </p><p>“Wherever you want to kiss first.”</p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung chokes as if she’s touched Sana for the first time. But Sana is serious, and time is running out. So Chaeyoung starts at the lips. </p><p> </p><p>Sana watches the pen make contact with a sketchpad that Chaeyoung had found. As soon as Chaeyoung finishes the cupid’s bow, Sana crawls over to her on the bed, hands placed carefully away from Chaeyoung’s body. </p><p> </p><p>When their lips touch, Chaeyoung only feels relief that she can feel warmth this time, and grief that this will be the only night she can. She almost brings a hand to cup her cheek before Sana sighs, effectively freezing her in place. Sana’s eyes have already taken over her life, and they triumph in that victory as she pulls away.</p><p> </p><p>“Draw my hands next.” Sana’s breath is warm now, sending a shiver down Chaeyoung’s neck. “Let me touch you, Chaeyoung-ah.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung has never sketched so frantically in her life. Her hands move of their own accord, making the roughest outline of a person and soon enough Sana’s right hand comes up to grab at her cheek. It’s a little too rough, it’s perfect, the way Sana almost claws into her skin, kissing like there’s treasure in her mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung can barely see her sketchbook now, which is trapped in the space between their bodies, but she manages Sana’s left hand, now missing the tip of its pinky. It doesn’t matter though, when Sana tangles her remaining fingers in Chaeyoung’s hair and mouths down her neck like she hasn’t eaten in days. Which, true. </p><p> </p><p>A bit of Sana’s arm grazes against Chaeyoung, cold and almost slimy in feeling, and she ricochets out of Sana’s grasp, panting. The feeling is the same, but this time, she can do something about it. Sana looks like a petulant toddler, but Chaeyoung has to finish what she’s started.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay over there, please. Let me draw all of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Sana nods, as if she’s going to listen while Chaeyoung begins filling in as many details as she can. But after twenty seconds Sana crawls over again, watching her own body take shape. The corner of her lips raises, and Chaeyoung can’t do anything about the whimper that escapes her when Sana gently pushes her hair aside to suck at her collarbone. </p><p> </p><p>“Sana… I can get this done faster without you…”</p><p>“Isn’t this the point though?”</p><p> </p><p>She can’t argue with the mouth on her neck now, so Chaeyoung just works faster, whole arms forming now, an arresting face, not done to justice like Chaeyoung would if they had more time. Chaeyoung would do a lot of things if they had more time, but she takes what she can get. </p><p> </p><p>Sana’s clothed knee bumps hers with that familiar freezing sensation. It made Chaeyoung jolt with the realization that she has to draw Sana not as she is now, but her bare skin, <em> all </em> over. Sana sees it on her face, and without being asked, starts tossing her shirt off before Chaeyoung can stutter out the question.</p><p> </p><p>She’s frantic too, Chaeyoung realizes, as Sana shimmies out of her pants in record time, reclines against the headboard completely naked, more beautiful than any living thing Chaeyoung has ever seen. Sana isn’t trying to kiss Chaeyoung now, but it might be worse, having Sana’s electric eyes on her as Chaeyoung does her best to sketch the curves of her bare hips with shaking hands. </p><p> </p><p>When she’s done, she wordlessly turns the pad around to Sana, who stares in awe at herself. “You’re amazing. Now be amazing over here.”</p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung joins her, discarding her own clothing and the sketch pad. It’s just them now, warmth touching warmth, the sparks in Chaeyoung’s belly burning up through her whole body as Sana drags her down, smiling and kissing and maybe crying too. Chaeyoung definitely cries when she comes, and Sana kisses her hair until she descends from the high. </p><p> </p><p>Lulled by the soothing motion, Chaeyoung thinks of leftovers, a blue dress, and a fading touch before drifting into a deep sleep.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Chaeyoung wakes up alone. She thinks she can see them, those wisps of Sana evaporating into the air. <em> I want you to know, Chaeyoung-ah. I wish too. But thank you. I’m free now. </em></p><p> </p><p>Her routine has been shattered, but she opens her laptop to the blank page anyway while microwaving the leftovers. She’s indulged enough. She begins.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sana was a force of nature… </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To think this all started when Chaeng drew Sana in the TTT healing camp episode lol. Started in August, finished during the Ao3 maintenance period lmao.</p><p>I love the idea that Sana and Chaeyoung can see each other, that they understand each other’s strangenesses and idiosyncrasies better than anyone, even in this somewhat paranormal situation. </p><p>Thanks for reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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